


with every guitar string scar on my hand

by zuzuzuuu



Category: UNINE (Band)
Genre: EXTREMELY domestic, Fluff, M/M, SPOILER: implied sexual content, SPOILER: morning after, Soft Mornings, but somehow it's more intimate than i expected, cat vs dog, it's in the things unsaid, might require some knowledge of xhy's tattoos, nothing happens, secretly just character study thoughts, vaguely canonverse, xia hanyu is a tsundere change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzuzuuu/pseuds/zuzuzuuu
Summary: It’s 6.30am, and Wenhan’s mind is preoccupied. The line of broken skin on his hand doesn’t hurt, but it throbs every now and then, as if to remind him of its existence. What is Xia Hanyu - a dog, or a cat? The eternal question.
Relationships: 17 - Relationship, Li Wenhan/Xia Hanyu
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	with every guitar string scar on my hand

**Author's Note:**

> title from taylor swift's **[lover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BjZmE2gtdo)**.
> 
> lyrics and song fit the mood so feel free to listen as bgm, or check it out afterward.

Is Xia Hanyu a cat or a dog? 

Wenhan ponders this as he pulls out the box of plasters, convenience store plastic bag crinkling loudly in the quiet of the room. The packaging is thin but tricky to open with only one hand, so the question simmers near the front of his mind while he picks at the clear tape with freshly bitten nails.

Most people would say Xia Hanyu's a dog, probably. His animal is an Alaskan malamute, thanks to his sister (albeit in name only); he kind of looks like one, too. He writes his emotions right out on his face - amusement, irritation, wonder, fear. Unswerving loyalty, the adoration pure in his eyes. He's straightforward, not graceful, goes right to the point and doesn't see the problem with it. He play-fights, non-threatening rough-housing and faces that aren't scary anymore. Wenhan finally manages to get the box open, tears along the perforated line to separate one plaster from the line of three. What else? He sometimes thinks he's a wolf. 

Oh, and he barks. This one makes Wenhan almost drop the plaster he'd taken so long to extract, stifling a laugh as he free-throws the two sides of paper wrapping into the bin. 

But that's too superficial, Wenhan thinks, inspecting the web of skin between his thumb and index finger. The wound there is small and shallow. What was it that Kakashi said again? To look underneath the underneath? 

After all, cats treat their human housemates with affection and respect too. It's just that they play favourites. Xia Hanyu will treat each syllable like it was worth gold if the interview asks boring, irrelevant questions; the same Xia Hanyu would talk into the early hours of the morning with Yangyang, indistinguishable voices filtering murkily through the small crack of door Wenhan left open, a lullaby if he closed his eyes. As with all cats, the adorable sweetness when you're trusted, the empty distance when you're not. When a cat likes you, it's belly fluff time, rumbling purrs. The unguarded, open shape of Xia Hanyu's back to him as he sprawls out on the bed, busy swiping through videos overlaid with the latest viral meme tune. His unabashed laughter when someone in the group says something ridiculous (a daily occurrence). The way Xia Hanyu's one fang comes peeking out, how he doesn't realise his mouth is already open and starting to smile at the corners, when he's watching the rest of them fool around mid-interview. 

Wenhan peels off one side of the skin-coloured plaster, sticks it on. The whole "sitting in a favourite box when I just bought you a new expensive bed" thing could be improved, though. Like how they have so many clothes, and yet Xia Hanyu, proud owner of a washing machine, will wear the same tracksuit for weeks. 

The rest of the comparison comes in a jumble, half a mind already on the schedule he's up so early for, as Wenhan carefully pulls down the other side of the adhesive. Xia Hanyu swings between periods of absolute silence and loud howling. He has just those few laser pointer buttons guaranteed to work him up - watermelon, GD. In a room full of people, he'd be just fine by himself. 

The plaster makes the fold a little awkward. Wenhan opens and closes his fist a few times experimentally and determines that it doesn't hinder him much. Better than the slight sting of the open wound, anyway. 

The bed dips behind him. Then a knobby, strong-fingered hand reaches out and smooths down the plaster's creases, smiley face tattoo looking knowingly up at Wenhan from its matching spot. 

"Too late to atone for your mistakes," Wenhan says. Hanyu half-grunts, still midway-asleep, and very briefly presses dry lips to the plaster in apology before flopping back into bed, eyes closed the whole way. 

Wenhan rolls his eyes. "Nice attempt. Also, it's waterproof." He stands, not expecting a reply this early in the morning, and so almost falls over when the hand on his wrist tugs him back down onto the bed. The torso his cheek lands on is solid, if still too thin for his liking, warm with sleep. 

"Does it hurt?" rumbles from Hanyu's chest and straight into the ear Wenhan's resting on it. Before him, the red patches he remembers leaving distract Wenhan momentarily. "So much. You have no idea. It's 2 metres long, I measured."

Hanyu squints at him. "...Kidding, it's just a small scratch," Wenhan says, relenting only because Hanyu's thumb hasn't stopped circling comfortingly over the area around his minor souvenir, ever since he woke up. Down, going over the bump of plaster, up, down again; the rhythm soothing, the action gentle. 

"Manager?" 

"Didn't ask, so I didn't tell. Xia Hanyu," Wenhan says, turning his head to look up. His hair must tickle, because Hanyu gives a disapproving snort. "Are you a dog or a cat?" 

"Dog," Hanyu replies without even having to think. Then frowns, brain catching up. "Why?" 

"You _like_ dogs, doesn't mean you are one," Wenhan says, playing idly with his hand. He interlaces their fingers. They slot perfectly, bitten nail against bitten nail, smiley face kissing the waxy plaster. "I've raised both, you know."

Hanyu hums. Not musical, a little scratchy, deep enough that Wenhan should probably leave, before he gets sidetracked and goes from extraordinary-work-ethics-early to just-punctual. 

"Nothing," Wenhan says to the unsaid question, sitting up reluctantly even as his phone starts buzzing with messages. _Car's downstairs,_ the latest one says. "Just wondering if I should explain it as my cat scratching me, or my dog biting me."

Hanyu barks a laugh. There, what'd he say about barking? "Biting? Look who's talking," referring to the blooms lining his gradually redefined abs, but making no comment about _my._

Wenhan squeezes once and then pulls out of Hanyu's hold. "I'm leaning towards cat," he decides, yanking on a hairstyle-saving bucket hat, and then tugging on Hanyu's hair. "Remember to eat breakfast. Didn't you say your appetite is better if you exercise before sleeping?" Hanyu curses into the pillow but obediently sets his alarm, throwing his phone away immediately after. 

"Good boy," Wenhan coos, not minding when Hanyu bats his hand away from stroking his hair. "Don't miss me too much." Hanyu cracks an eye open, and then goes back to trying to suffocate himself. 

"You wish," he mutters. But the crook of the tail never lies, and Hanyu's is in the twist of his mouth and pulse through his veins, beating a rising rhythm visible on his forearm's scissors blade. In that moment, the question Wenhan's been musing over for the past hour loses its importance. Cat or dog, he'll come home to someone equally glad to see him. Isn't that all that matters? 

Wenhan shields Hanyu's eyes from the encroaching sunrise with his un-plastered hand. "I'm going," he says, and leaves one last parting kiss. "So wishy-washy," Hanyu grumbles, but he kisses back. 

When he goes, Wenhan closes the door as quietly as possible. 

-

"What happened to your hand?" the stylist asks later. 

"Ah, my dog scratched it," Wenhan says. "It's nothing, don't worry. Should I take it off?" 

She considers it. "No, it's okay, we can make it work. You should be more careful, though."

"I will next time," Wenhan smiles cheerfully, eyes alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I wasn't TOO implicit for... everything, I like being under-the-surface more often than not.
> 
> I have no updates for anything (I'm SORRY) but "xhy: cat or dog?" occurred to me in the shower and I wrote it all in one sitting. 
> 
> Very much inspired by UNINE's latest interview with 乐见大牌 (can you spot all the references?) + Wenhan showing up to the airport with a plaster on his forehead, because he got scratched by a cat. That is a real life thing (ouch).


End file.
